


Day 37 - Death and the Merits of Being Fired

by Amemait



Series: Dan and Death [2]
Category: The Sandman (Comics), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amemait/pseuds/Amemait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written with GlassPyramids, who I can't seem to find on here yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 37 - Death and the Merits of Being Fired

It had already been two months, and it had only been two months. Dan isn't used to thinking about time like this. He isn't really used to noticing the passage of time at all, apart from thinking that there just wasn't enough of it, not enough hours in the night to really make a difference. Catching purse-snatchers -- and worse, far worse -- in the glare of Archie's floodlights had been satisfying, yes, but...well. It didn't matter now, did it?

As he climbs out onto the roof with practiced ease, Dan isn't sure how much time has passed since Rorschach disappeared down the subway tracks, not looking back or pausing despite Dan's calls. He'd said his piece and that was that, just as it had always been, but this was the first time it had been directed at Dan, and it wasn't sitting well.

She's doing a one-handstand on her fingertips at the very edge of the roof's ledge, not facing him.

"We really should stop meeting like this, Ni-Daniel." The slipup is deliberate, but only because he hasn't quite decided which name he is now.

Dan freezes, automatic reflex sending him into a defensive crouch and scanning the rooftop, but then he sees the source of the unexpected comment and blinks in surprise.

"Oh. Um. Hi. I didn't think anyone else would be up here." He straightens again, feeling awkward. "Not that you aren't welcome or anything, of course you are."

Is he going to die? Now that he's retired, and not doing life-threatening, stupid things every night? Hell.

She moves smoothly into a standing position on the ledge, finally looking at him.

"I considered cartwheels, but then I changed my mind. How are you?" There are usually only four answers she gets to that question. Alive, Dead, Suffering from a lack of belief, and One of her Siblings.

"Oh, fine," Dan answers automatically, then shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Well...I'm okay, I guess. Had a fight with Rorschach. I don't think I'll be seeing him again anytime soon."

"I heard about the new law here, I take it that was what you were fighting about?" She keeps her tone light and breezy, as though she weren't what she is and he weren't what he was.

Ironically enough, she'd heard about it from someone that Rorschach had sent to her. She has a sneaking suspicion that he can see her out of the corner of his eye when he kills someone.

That's been happening a lot more of late.

And Daniel isn't dressed up like one of Athena's pets.

"You're very tense."

He feels tense, and it isn't because of who he's talking to. He feels tense because he can feel the wind ruffling his hair, because his cowl is gathering dust in the basement. He feels tense because everything he saw as Nite Owl is still happening, only he isn't down there to stop it. Not anymore.

He sighs quietly and sits on the edge of the roof, unbothered by the height, and brushes his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I know. I retired, and it was the right decision -- Rorschach's going to keep doing it, and that's what we fought about -- but I guess I just feel...pushed aside."

She considers his words, standing over him for- well. It's not a timeless moment. But a human would say it is, and so that's how long she stands over him for. Dan blinks up at her as she stands there, confused.

Decision made, she kneels down and wraps him in a hug, suddenly thankful that today she's wearing a coat, so she doesn't have to call it from her realm, because Daniel clearly needs all the warmth he can get. He'd been just about to ask if everything was okay, but then his eyes widen as she holds him.

He wasn't sure what he would have expected, knowing what little he knows about who she is, but he's surprised at how human the gesture is. Then he feels silly for being surprised and awkwardly hugs back. "Thanks," he mutters.

"What are friends for?"

She pulls back and rests her forehead against his, avoiding hitting her nose on the glasses.

"We have two choices. Well, three, really. Or maybe four. The first, we go out and get you really drunk. Second, we go out and find a coffee store open at this hour. Third option, we go into your flat and you make your own coffee. And the fourth idea is that there's a theatre just down the road playing the Rocky Horror Picture Show." She knew because she'd seen the sign when she was picking up an alcoholic that morning, but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

Dan can't help but smile at the list of suggestions. "I make pretty good coffee," he answers, then grins. "I have coffee you might like, actually." When he'd seen it in the store, he'd had to pause and stare for almost a minute before he was sure he wasn't dreaming it. Adrian had listened to Dan's ranting with his usual patience, then explained that he'd suggested the name as a joke, and the marketing team had run with it. Dan hated to admit it, but Veidt Enterprises "Nite Owl" dark-roast coffee was actually pretty good.

"Lead on, bean-king," she declares, and then wonders if he knows how apt the title is.

But there's still that set to his shoulders there- No. She won't ask. Not yet.

It's silly, and he feels a little bad about it, but he can't quite shake the idea that she might be there for him. Usually he swings through the window, but tonight he moves more slowly, carefully lowering himself over the side and slipping in. It isn't very secure, but Dan doesn't worry much about burglars.

"Kitchen's this way," he says as she joins him, then starts downstairs. On the wall in the upstairs hall is a framed page from a very old book, a detail of the primary feathers and bone structure of an owl's wing.

"There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn't count," she mutters at the picture on the wall as she follows her friend. When he glances behind at the words, she gives him a smile that could mean so many things. She sees how slowly he's moving, how careful, and- Ah. The wrong impression. Impolite of her.

"I'm not here on business, Daniel. I was simply..." she waves a hand expansively. "In the area."

"Oh. Uh, well..." He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Sorry. I guess I was kind of wondering...not that it isn't nice to just see you. I'm glad you stopped by."

In the kitchen, he waves her to a chair and sets up coffee to perk, out of the Nite Owl tin.

'You didn't call me, but you didn't have to, for this. I'll be there for you.'

She considers saying it, then doesn't. Instead, she says "I'm glad I stopped by too." She looks over at the the coffee tin for something to look at other than his eyes, and then bursts into giggles.

"Oh my. Oh, but that is precious." 

"So, I guess even you need some time off, huh?" he adds with a grin.

The question stops the laughter. "In a way, I'm still working. I'm everywhere, all at once. Just because I'm here, with you, doesn't mean I stop happening, stop being there for the end. To stop that would involve a lot of magic and a couple of circles. And then you might simply get one of my siblings anyway."

She breaks off, frowning, thinking about her brother, then forces herself to brighten.

"So, I take it the tin is the fault of one Adrian Veidt, then?"

"Yeah," Dan answers, looking a little sheepish. "I was pretty peeved when I first saw it, but Adrian told me he suggested it as a joke and then couldn't get his marketing people off it. I don't mind so much now. At least it's good."

He pours out two cups and brings a carton of cream and a tin of sugar cubes to the table before sitting down. It's a little disturbing to hear her talking about people dying while she's sitting here, but that's how it works, after all. He tries to put it out of his mind.

"You okay?" he asks hesitantly, having caught the momentary frown.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says, and doesn't feel it. But she owes Daniel the truth, because he's her friend. That's what friends do, right? It's something that she's only really considered in the abstract, before, really. Sure, she knows how to be friendly, but knowing how to be a friend? That's something different.

"It's just... family stuff. My brother's off being a self-sacrificing jerk for me, that's all. I'm not worried about his... well. His life, for lack of a more appropriate word. But I am worried about what it's doing to his head. And his realm. I know it's fallen into disrepair, and it's an important place, but I can't... I never asked this of him. He's just being my stupid little brother."

She lets her hands drop to the table, palm down, spread flat, and turns her head to watch the coffee drip into its pot.

Dan just listens, because it seems like that's the best idea, even though he can't really follow what she's talking about. "I'm sorry you're worrying about him, but he must care about you a lot to do...well, whatever it is he's doing."

She snorts, unladylike.

"It's more likely it's stubborn pride on his part that keeps him from summoning me. Or perhaps a fear of what would happen if they caught me. We're the Endless, Daniel. It's rare that any of us care about the others, save Del. Desire and Despair care for each other; Destiny at least treats us all well, but no more than that; Delirium loves us unconditionally, and Destruction ... Well. He has left us. But Morpheus? We're less important to him than his creations and those who exist in his realm. I think he likes his Raven more than he does any of us."

She has no idea why she's telling him this. A subject change is clearly in order.

"Have you considered volunteer work? Community something-or-other, nip the street problems in the bud?" Because if his dreams cannot suggest such an idea, then perhaps... 

Dan looks a little stunned and he pulls his glasses off to clean them absently. He's so out of his depth, and before he can even try to formulate a response, he's thrown off-balance by her unexpected question.

"I, um. Well, no, I hadn't, really. There isn't much I could do, I don't think." And it would only be a pale imitation of what he'd done before. It might make the cravings worse. He forces a smile and takes a sip of coffee. "I'll be okay. I thought about doing some mechanical engineering consulting work, maybe I'll get started with that."

"That sounds like a grand idea, Dan."

She looks down, and sees the coffee cup in front of her. She hadn't even noticed Dan giving it to her, and she takes an absent sip, not really tasting the drink.

"Whatever you do, you'll make it important." For such is the nature of one for whom Destiny has given a choice.

All the same, she doesn't particularly wish to pick him up prematurely, and if he'd gotten any more stir crazy, she would have needed to worry more. Worry is such a human emotion. Perhaps... Has she spent too much time with Earth of late? Not simply out of business, but out of just general fun? She's started watching their movies, for crying out loud.

She steals a sidelong-glance at Dan's eyes through fresh-polished glass, and decides that, no, she's been spending too little time here.

"Um. Thanks." Dan knows he shouldn't be drinking coffee at going on 2 am, but he isn't really sure what else to do.

She isn't human -- he picked up on that quite awhile ago -- but she seems to be. More now than before, and he wonders what she's been doing over the past ten years. Besides the obvious, of course.

She runs a finger over the rim of the cup and doesn't meet Dan's gaze. Because she doesn't want to scare him, but that's another lie. He's survived the sight of her eyes before.

"I take it you've been having some slight trouble adjusting to a less nocturnal sleep schedule?" she asks, the words far more formal than they should be. But then, sleep is still part of what her brother holds sway over.

"Well, yeah. I guess I stayed up all night for more than ten years," Dan answers with a shrug. "I didn't really think much of it at the time, but it's hard to get used to doing something else." Especially when you didn't really want to be doing something else. "I'm working on it though; probably fix my sleep patterns in another few weeks."

Then he'd have to find something to do with the days he wasn't sleeping through anymore.

She frowns, but it's somehow not as dark as the last one.

"I'm keeping you awake, and this coffee won't help. I'm sorry."

To her surprise, she actually is apologetic. And then she remembers that he'd been the one to climb up that roof; if she's not mistaken, he'd still be up there now.

"Oh, no, it's fine," he says quickly, shaking his head. "I'd be up anyway. Like you said, trouble adjusting. I was just on the roof to get some fresh air."

He runs fingers through ruffled hair, mussing it further. "I mean, if you have places to be, I don't want to keep you. I guess I could try getting some sleep before the sun comes up."

She smiles and accepts the slight lie for what it is, wonders if he knows how easy he is to read, even for someone who isn't the sort of being who grows up with body language. His words were too quick to be honest.

His words are true though. She does have places to be. But in a very real sense, she's already there anyway. Being here and watching Dan drink coffee, she's in Washington DC, taking a little girl's hand and leading her away from the hospital bed; she's in London, Ontario, and an old man is following her out his front door for the last time; she's in Darwin, Australia, as a young man jumps off a building and his last thoughts are of the smell of burnt rice pudding.

Dan's hair is a mess again, and she reaches out to brush it out of his eyes.

"Sleep might be a good idea, Dan. You look like you could do with some more of it in your life." This too is true. In the kitchen light's glare, there are definitely dark circles under his eyes, and she can't even ask her brother to send him a pleasant night's rest.

Dan's cheeks redden as she fixes his hair and he ducks his head a bit. "You're probably right," he answers as he pushes aside his half-full mug and stands. "Let me walk you out." He knows he probably doesn't have to, but it's what he ought to do, and besides all that, he wants to.

She smiles, a closed-eyed expression, at the blush, and decides that it was a good thing that Nite Owl II's mask covered all of his cheeks and ears; she doubts very much that he'd have survived too many hugs-upon-victim's-rescue with anything resembling street cred intact, otherwise.

"Okay, Dan. I thank you for your kind hospitality." And this, too, is formality; the manners of an Endless extending gratitude. Unwittingly, he has bought another gift, simply by inviting her in, offering her refreshment, lending an ear to her words. As she stands to trail after him, she wonders what she might give him this time.

"Um...thanks," he says quietly as he opens the door for her. "Thanks for coming by. It was good to talk to you again. I hope everything works out with your brother."

Then Dan can feel his eyes widen as she meets them again without hesitation; he knows it's deliberate, and he can't really find words for a few moments.

With delicate care, she takes off his glasses with her right hand, and draws a horus-swirl under his right eye with her left; fingernail just barely scraping the surface of his skin.

"A little bit of luck, my Daniel. In gratitude." She murmurs the lie. It's not luck at all, it's protection, but he does not need to know that. Even now, there is something dark afoot, and it's selfish, yes, but she would like to keep Daniel from the harm that will be wrought, and wrought soon.

It's all the protection she can afford him.

Dan's cheeks turn red as she slips his glasses off and at "my Daniel" he stutters, but he holds perfectly still as her fingers skate over his face. They leave a trail of warmth and he can't quite make out the pattern, but his eyes are drawn to the curl on her face and he wonders if she's drawing the same on his, and why.

The pure white mark on his skin fades into invisibility as she speaks, but it's still there for any god - or angel. Or demon. Or muse. Or even the three ladies - who might look upon him.

She presses the glasses into his slack hand, and then finally, finally breaks her gaze.

He's silent for a few moments as she hands him his glasses, taking them automatically, then watches her as she walks down the steps and out onto the street.

"Sleep well, my Daniel."

"Good night," he says at last, but it takes him almost another full minute, looking into the darkness that isn't his anymore, before he closes the door.


End file.
